Where the Marrow Should Be
"You don't like mating parties?"
Field blinked. Turned ... and saw a pink-furred bat. Attractive. Bright-eyed. She'd snuck up on him. The champagne had obviously dulled his sensory reactions ... his ears, anyway. For his eyes were working ... and they blinked again, darting away from her (not wanting to stare ... wanting to, but ... not wanting to ... )
"Don't you?" she pressed. Asking again.
A small shake of the head.
"Why?" she wondered.
A face.
"Mm?"
A sigh ... " ... I ... don't know. Too much fun. Bothers me."
"You don't like fun, huh?" A bit of a toothy smile.
"No."
"You're just being stubborn," she assured. "Just being ... defensive. Mm ... I don't know ... you strike me as a fascinating kind of fur. Just need to ... peel away the layers," she whispered.
He gave her a look. And then looked away.
"I'm asking ... I mean, about whether you enjoy any of this, cause ... you seem rather ... out of it. Standing in this corner here." She'd been watching him all evening (most of the evening, anyway). And, when the dancing had started, she'd been able to break away from the newly-mates and ... " ... I mean ... well, everyone else is laughing and smiling, and ... you're not," she whispered. As if ... concerned? Why? She didn't know him ... maybe it was his loneliness (which he radiated), or ...
The mouse didn't answer. Just looked away. Out the window. It was evening, and the Indianapolis skyline was ... lit. The skyscrapers and everything else. The Bank One Tower. The blue, trapezoidal top. The two spires. The tallest building in the entire state. Built in 1990 (and why did he know that ... he knew too much, so much about ... whatever. Soon, he would come to the wall of himself. The ending of himself. Soon ... ) ...
But the mouse actually lived an hour north. In the countryside. A dairy farm. This was not his natural environment. Social furs. The city scene. Bustling night.
Not his thing.
"You ... you can't be related to either side, though," Adelaide observed. "They're squirrels."
"Yeah," was his response. A pause. "You're not a squirrel," he noted.
And that toothy grin of hers. "Aren't I?" She did a slow full-circle. "Mm ... guess not." She smiled.
He bit his lip.
"I'm the femme of honor," she explained. "As if that's ... doing me any good. But you can't say no when you're asked stuff like that. You may never get asked again." She giggled. "Mm ... " And her smile faded. "So, uh ... why are you here? You keep walking around ... "
"I'm, uh ... part of the catering staff."
"Oh ... really? Seriously?"
A nod.
"Oh, well, I guess that would make sense. Being that you were carrying trays of food." A sheepish nod. "Mm ... "
Field nodded. "Nothing left to do ... but wait for them to finish eating. So we can clear the tables."
"I see." The bat went quiet, holding a glass. A near-empty glass with both her paws. "Well, I'm Adelaide."
Field nodded.
"You like to do that, huh? Nod?"
Field ALMOST nodded at that, and ...
... she giggle-chittered, eyes bright.
And the mouse stayed quiet.
Adelaide waited.
Field ... fidgeted. "Mm ... ?"
"Well, it's traditional," she told him, "to give your name ... now that I've given mine."
"Oh ... "
"Oh," she mocked gently.
"Field," said Field. "I'm ... "
"... Field, " she whispered, letting the name roll off her tongue. "Ah ... " A giggle. "Never heard that name, but ... it's so traditional, simple, and ... rural, but ... and yet such a rare name, too. I don't know. I'm ... blabbing. " A giggle. She'd had just as much champagne as he had, but ... was in a better mood for it. "Solid male name. Good name," she assured. "Field," she whispered. "Just ... rolls off the whispered, weary tongue, yeah? Field ... "
Field just eyed her. She had verve, this fur. Had ... boldness. It wasn't just the alcohol.
And she eyed him back. With a bit of cheek. "Mm ... you're nervous, aren't you? I mean, not just now, but ... all the time?" Her gaze was soft. As was her whisper. "Where's your confidence, Mr. Field Mouse?"
The mouse gave a weak ... shrug.
"I think you're cute," she confessed (whispering it as if ... it were a secret). A giggle. "And I bet you're smart, too."
"No ... "
"Mm-hmm ... hey, I'm telepathic, mousey. Can't fool me."
His whiskers twitched.
"Don't worry, I'm not ... seeping through your darkest secrets. I only sense ... emotions. Unless allowed otherwise."
"And if allowed?"
"I can sense ... more particular thoughts and memories. But not complete. It's only complete during ... well, a biting ... " She trailed. Not elaborating. Only repeating, "You are ... cute. Smart. You are worthwhile. That's why I'm ... badgering you." A giggle. "A bat being a badger ... yeah ... "
"If I am," Field told her, "those things ... then why am I in the condition I'm in? Why am I alone?" And all messed-up, he wanted to add (but didn't).Why ... why, was his internal whisper, hasn't anyone said that to me ... verbally, standing there ... said those things to me ... before just now. Before right now. Who was this Adelaide ...
"Cause furs don't know what's good for 'em," was her response. "Cause God's been saving you for someone," was her more honest reply.
"Saving me for someone?"
"Yeah, like ... a match made in heaven, you know? Fated to be mated ... you a Christian?"
A quiet nod. "Yes ... Quaker. But, yes ... "
"Well, then ... so, you believe that? That everything has a purpose. There are reasons, and ... God has someone in mind for us ... "
A little whisper. "Yeah ... so ... "
"So, maybe he's been saving you for someone," the bat continued, sipping the last vestiges of her drink. "Mm ... we need more," she said, grabbing the mouse's paw.
Field squeaked, suddenly tugged into the crowd, into the flashing, colorful lights ... toward the drink table. Chittering, "I'm ... I'm on the clock. I'm working ... "
"You've already had some. Don't tell me you haven't."
"I shouldn't have anymore!"
"Nonsense ... "
They reached the drinks table, and she got a new glass of champagne ... and one for him, and ... she nudged him back to where they'd been standing. Back toward the tall window in the dim corner. In the back of the big, wooden reception hall. Near the potted plants.
Adelaide sighed, sipping. "Nasty stuff," she said, of the champagne. "But it does its job, yeah?" She raised her glass to the mouse ...
... who shyly nodded.
They sipped.
And the bat padded to the window. Stopped. "Romantic ... in a way. The city can be romantic. But ... I couldn't live here. Not forever. Not without going insane," she said, giggling, turning back around.
"I know what you mean," was Field's response.
"Do you?" she whispered, eyes trying to lock to his.
But his eyes darted ...
"You ... dart your eyes. You won't make eye contact ... "
"I don't know ... "
"I'm not gonna bite, Field. Well ... " A giggle. "Mm ... I'd LOVE to bite, if we're gonna be frank, but ... " A sly, sparkling smile. "You like the fairer tail, right? I mean ... sometimes, you can't be sure with furs. Sometimes, they're all ... different," she whispered, sipping at her drink, eyes not leaving the mouse. "Mm?"
"The fairer tail?"
"As opposed to the rougher tail," she whispered. A pause. "Hey, it's ... okay with me if you ... "
"No ... no," he whispered. "I like the fairer tail."
"Ah ... mm ... "
A whisker-twitching, "Well ... why? Do I look like I wouldn't?"
"Are we being honest?" she asked, raising her brow.
A quiet, lip-biting nod.
"You look like you've never had a whiff of the fairer tail ... but I've bet you've dabbled with the rougher one ... and it left you wanting, didn't it? It left you ... in great pain. You thought you were different. You thought ... you were different in THAT way, and ... you weren't. But you couldn't erase what you did. You lost yourself ... " She reached out her free paw ... to touch his. "Come on," she whispered quietly. A nudging nod.
Field swallowed, heart hammering, and he ... held her paw.
"There," she whispered. "Mm ... " A deep breath (through her nose).
Field felt his muscles loosen ... " ... wh-what ... "
She made a soft, hushing sound ... " ... it's alright. I'm telepathic," she explained. "All bats are."
"What are you doing to me ... "
"Helping you," she insisted (with caring honesty). "Just relax ... and hold my paw."
Field squeaked a bit, and ... nodded. And took slow, steady breaths, and ... felt lighter. Felt ...
"There it is," she whispered, seeing ...
... the mouse smile for the first time. (And probably, she knew, the first time he'd smiled all day ... or even all weak).
"Feels good, doesn't it?" She squeezed his paw ... lightly.
A shy, quiet nod. A smile ... that showed the dimples on his furry cheeks. Oh, he had dimples! Oh, even cuter ...
"You okay?" she mouthed.
"Why ... why would you wanna help me? You don't know me ... I'm ... "
" ... a perfectly good fur, Field. Who needs a lot of love and nurturing ... to heal. To flower. To ... you need someone."
"You don't want me," he told her.
"But I do ... or, at least, I wanna ... try ... you know?" The bat had a very dominant, nurturing personality. And loved to care for others. Loved to help ... and ... " ... anyway, I know we just met, and all, and we're BOTH ... well, tipsy!" she admitted. "But ... " A contented, moist-eyed sigh. "I don't know, mousey ... "
Field's own eyes (blue-grey) watered, and darted away ...
"How long you got?" the bat asked, licking her teeth. Her fangs. Oh, she felt the instinct ... the one that wanted to ... bury those fangs into his neck. Go for a ride. Mm ... but ... she fought the urge. No good relationship was every built on a physical foundation. She didn't care what anyone said. The foundation had to be emotional. And the physical was ... built on that. That way, both could stand. Both would maintain integrity.
Just the way it worked.
"Field?"
"Mm?" A shy, whisker-twitching blink. Bare, silky tail ... snaking behind him (unconsciously).
"How long," she repeated, "you got?" Downing the rest of her champagne. "Mm ... like, before you gotta work again?"
"Fifteen, twenty minutes, I guess ... "
"Enough time," she assured.
A blink. "For what?" he asked. So shy. So ... innocent. So vulnerable. Hold him like an egg, Adelaide ... warm him out of his shell ...
"Well, there's air," she told him, "in my bones ... " Putting her paws and winged arms ... oh, those wings! Filmy, velvety things ... he'd never seen anything like them. He'd never been this close to a bat before. And, now, one was hanging on his shoulders (like a love-crazed fool ... the good kind of fool ... and, anyway, he was a fool, too, so ... they'd make good company, then).
"Air?" he asked, squeaking.
"In my bones," she repeated. "Where the marrow should be." She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. Sighing again. "I'm very light," she said, "on my foot-paws."
The mouse twitched a bit.
And she brought her head up ... to look at his eyes (from this close a distance), whispering, "That means I'm a good dancer. That's my way ... of telling you I wouldn't mind, mousey, for a second ... if you decided to dance me around the room."
Such eagerness, such warmth ... in her voice. And her breath smelled of berries ... and champagne.
"Mm?" Her eyes pleaded.
And Field ... heart hammering, swallowed. "Um ... " And he nodded. Hesitating ...
"You want me to lead?" she giggled.
Field flushed.
And Adelaide nodded quietly, squeezing his shoulders. "It's okay," she whispered sincerely. "I don't mind ... alright?" she whispered, giving him a reassuring smile. Come on, boy ... smile back ... it's alright ...
And the mouse ... smiled shyly. Again, dimples showing.
And Adelaide put her glass down on the nearest table (and his glass, too), and ...
... off they went ...